Author: Bell Pie toggledog@yahoo.com

Rating; R

Pairings: Harry/Draco

Warning: Very angsty, contains hints of father/son incest

Author’s Notes; Ta for all my reviewers- please continue! More AN at bottom.
 
 

I remember when Harry Potter received his first Firebolt. Yes, I remember that well. The vast multitude gathered around the golden boy, the usual inawe and admiration plastered across their dazzled countenances. How many times a year does that happen, Potter? All that constant adulation. The pretty boy breathes a different way and receives an instant Wizard Medal.

So, Harry had his Firebolt and I had my Nimbus 2001.

His was given to him. I had to prostitute myself for my less superior broom. I remember sitting on the bed, trying to put my clothes back on with trembling fingers, with my Father’s voice in the background, saying

"Narcissa says you’ve had your eye on the new Nimbus 2001 broom. Is this true, my dragon?"

Thirteen fucking years old.

But I loved that stupid broom. Despite the circumstances in acquiring it. However, when Harry received his Firebolt, I was in a dilemma. I had to have one, also. Surely Daddy would send me one?

I waited the days, rushing downstairs every morning to see if any special gift had arrived by post.

Every day, there was nothing. I learnt a harsh truth. Daddy never gave unless he was given something in return.

And the end Quidditch match? We were flattened, of course. I couldn’t catch the bloody snitch. Dim-witted boy!

I knew what this meant. I was ‘Dirty Draco.’ Why couldn’t I have caught the stupid thing? Because I went against Harry Potter, of course. Marcus accosted me in the showers. The lame brain at least realized that my anxiety was due to more than just losing the match. He had tried to coax it out of me.

He has tried countless times, since. He’s not a bad guy. I think he even loves me, in his way.

That day, he ended with a pat on the back and a harsh

‘Cheer up! Can’t be as bad as it seems!’

I laughed. I threw back my head and laughed until I could barely breathe and my sides were laced with fire.

I think the night that I arrived home was my first suicide attempt. Or was it the second night? Obviously, it was completely misguided. I swallowed ten Instant Hair Repair tablets. No blissful nothingness to cease my unending agony. I only succeeded in growing myself thick swatches on hair on my body, and made myself violently ill.

The door closes with a gentle click. I still don’t move. My mind prohibits the signals down my nerves to my limbs, such is its state. I finally manage a bit at a time, a finger, a couple of fingers, a hand. Working through my body to my legs. Reality gradually returns. I am aching. He does not heal the pains if I am Dirty. I overbalance and fall off the bed, scraping my knee painfully across the bedside drawer. Just another scratch to puzzle over later.

He had, of course, demanded to know where I was. I refused, muttering the ‘Dishabilius’ spell under my breath, prohibiting Lucius knowledge of, or entry outside the bathroom door. That would further anger him but I did not care.

I had to protect Harry and Lupin.

I am too pained to stand. I half crawl, half drag myself over to the bathroom door. I am in desperate need of a scolding bath.

Though I never wash off the foulness. That is imbedded deeper than my flesh.

He had apparated me instantly to one of the vast lounge rooms in the Malfoy Manor. Then told me a few facts, right in front of Narcissa.

My own mother.

It wasn’t what he was saying. The horrifying knowledge that he had implanted a spell in me from birth that would forever allow him to apparate to wherever I am.

It was what he was doing. He started to take my clothes off, then stopped, mid-sentence and turned to Narcissa.

"Narcissa, leave!"

Mother looked grimly to him. "Lucius-"

"I said leave, Narcissa!"

I barely registered what happened next.

The first rape for the night, right down on the lounge room floor, was almost inconsequential compared to my own mother turning away and leaving the room without a backwards glance. She had not seen it, of course. She left long before the act itself.

The almost frustrated resignedness unlocked the horror that I had always known. A small kernel of hope was instantly extinguished in my already withered soul, the poison reaching throughout my entire body, sootening the very embers of my being.

Narcissa knew. She had always known.

I fling open the bathroom door and open my mouth to scream in shock but the ‘Silencius’ spell is uttered, silencing my voice box. Snape’s brown eyes flash a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me in, closing the door and uttering a silencing charm, preventing the others from hearing and thankfully allowing me to speak. He does not speak for a moment, instead is looking at my wonderful assortment of bruises and cuts. Finally, he pats the edge of the bath, motioning for me to sit then wordlessly affixes the marring on my face, his own contorted, eyes gleaming. I am surprised when he holds his wand on me, shooting tendrils out to bind me, before tearing them off his wand and tying the ends to the shower bar. I scream in surprise, only to have the cottony film cover my mouth.

I am left there a few long moments, struggling against my binds, until a scream freezes me.

Narcissa.

Panic overtakes. I struggle wildly, desperate to be free. Snape apparates back into the room, holding a very bruised and bloodied Lucius. He pushes him back and holds his wand on him.

"What have you done to my son?" Lucius is sounding very alert. There is another emotion I cannot pinpoint a moment.

As I have never heard it from my father, before.

Fear.

"Nothing. In fact-" He leans down and unties the bonds. As soon as I am free, I charge Snape. He holds out his hand and slaps me to the ground, easily. "Control yourself, Draco!"

"What do you want?" I demand. Lucius is not moving, I note. Snape still has his wand on him.

"Sonorus!"

Lucius slumps unconscious. I back against the wall, cursing myself for leaving the wand in my room.

"Are you going to attack me again?" He says, holding the wand out before him menacingly. His face suddenly softens and he repockets the wand. I look about the room, considering my options. Could I reach the door and out before he takes out his wand? I decide against the possibility. My stomach momentarily fills with dread as he slips off his vast overrobe but is diluted by vast confusion when he steps over and slips it over me.

"Stay here!" He orders. To my vast surprise, I obey. My mind is too much in a muddle to create a plausible escape. He returns within seconds with a change of robes and wordlessly hands them over.

"Narcissa?" I ask as I dress.

"She is alright. Simply stunned."

"What do you want?"

He is silent a moment. "That is inconsequential. Right now, I wish to take you away from here."

Snape places his hands through his hair in a guesture of frustration that I have never seen before. He looks to Lucius, then to me, appearing to weigh something up in his mind. His face drops, every muscle simultaneously subjected to extreme gravity. It is as though he has aged a hundred years. He holds his wand on Lucius and mutters.

"Infinum Recalus."

I know that spell. It is used to wipe the mind of an informative wizard. Father will wake up in my bathroom and won’t know why he is there.

"I apologize, Draco." I am somewhat captivated by his velvet tones. "I did not know what was happening, at first. I could only hear these peculiar noises from the other room. As well I thought I was in your parent’s bathroom. As a result, I took the noises to be resultant of your parents." He slams his mouth shut and looks to my Father. His very being projects a tension that he could cut with his own wand.

Snape does not have to say any more. He would have heard Lucius talk. His last words to me before leaving the room.

"I will not tolerate my son having relations with the enemy."

Too late, Father. Far too late.

"I will not allow that evil man to hurt you, Draco. That is my promise. Infinum Recalus!"
 
 

I am utterly bewildered to find myself in a very unfamiliar loungeroom consisting of dark but elegant mahogany leather couches and tables, all arranged in careful and anal symmetry. The south wall is lined with books, the spine of which offers golden titles; everything ranging from ‘Dark Arts: A Historical Perspective’ to ‘Handy Household Spells’. The east wall, across from where I am seated, is filled with countless jars of macabre and odd objects. Under the shelving, fitting in directly with his paraphernalia, sits Severus Snape.

Tbc…

Sorry, no Harry or Remus in this one.

Next one- Snape’s POV. Harry and Remus return. Percy and Oliver are introduced.